I was a 29 year old mother of three who had spent eleven years with my love. I was widowed. This diary begins five years after his death. I hope to capture the memories of this journey. The lessons. The joy. The sadness. The humor. The faith. The hope.

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Tuesday, April 13, 2010

SIGNS OF WARNING

While my husband was ill, there were many things that his health had once afforded him to do, that he could no longer do. In those moments, I was happy to step up and do whatever needed to be done. Although, I will say, my lack of fear could be compared to my lack of restraining myself from singing - I may have been willing to do it, but that did not equate my ability to do it well.

As spring time arrived we needed to till the flower gardens to get them ready for planting. Physically my husband was very weak at that time - so I willfully volunteered to run the rototiller under his direction.

He prepped the rototiller - to ensure the gas and oil were all set. I wheeled it out to where I would be working... got it started and looked to him for instructions on how to make it go. He gave me simple and concise instructions. I followed them and the rototiller started lunging forward. I started screaming, very uncomfortable with how quickly it was moving. I was screaming for it to stop. Repeatedly, over and over I kept screaming, "make it stop!" But I was trying too hard to keep a hold of the thing to think clearly enough to just let go... of the gas.

My husband began to yell for me to let go of the gas as he was beginning to have visions of our neighbor's lawn being tilled... By this point I had made it across the yard and was on our driveway - where my brain finally caught up with my body enabling me to let go. It stopped. I took a deep breath and asked, "OK, what bed needs to be done next?"

It was evident from the very beginning that I was not equipped to be a widow. It was about this time my husband starting having ideas for a book entitled, "How My Cancer Killed My Wife".